


Hunt Down After You

by WriteByNight



Series: Sterek Week 2016 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Derek Hale Saves The Day, Feral Derek Hale, Forced Blow Job(s), M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sexual Assault, Sterek Week, Sterek Week 2016, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteByNight/pseuds/WriteByNight
Summary: Stiles realized that the hunters weren't looking at anyone in particular, but were perusing the crowd, in search of their prey. Which meant it was time for Stiles to get the hell outta dodge. He was already planning his escape route and cursing his own stupidity and foolhardiness. Stiles had gone out loads of times with every protective defense he could muster up in his arsenal.However, this particular night, he had forgotten his bracelet that dimmed his magical signature and the medallion that had an intricate 'notice-me-not' spell weaved into its original molten form that had taken him nearly twenty attempts to master. There was still a tiny piece of his thumb that lost it's feeling due to the burns he'd received from the liquid metal.Of course, the one night he forgets his protection is the very night he's found.~~~~~~~~Or, the one time Stiles forgets to shield himself from hunters and is caught.





	

Stiles was sure he hadn't had more than four mixed drinks over a two hour period when he spotted the hunters.

The three men certainly weren't even _attempting_ to blend in with their black-on-black ensemble and black boots that added an inch and a half to each of their heights and also increased their traction. _They_ probably hadn't slipped on someone's piss in the men's room while wearing those boots. Not that Stiles had personally done such a thing. Several times.

Stiles glanced around to see if anyone else spotted the group. Maybe they weren't even here for him. There could be bigger fish to fry. Stiles _knew_ he's heard the howls of a few werewolves every month on the full moon. However, not many people seemed to notice the out of place group, but one couple did give them the side eye while a few others were blatantly checking them out.

Stiles realized that the hunters weren't looking at anyone in particular, but were perusing the crowd, in search of their prey. Which meant it was time for Stiles to get the hell outta dodge. He was already planning his escape route and cursing his own stupidity and foolhardiness. Stiles had gone out loads of times with every protective defense he could muster up in his arsenal.

However, this particular night, he had forgotten his bracelet that dimmed his magical signature and the medallion that had an intricate _'notice-me-not'_ spell weaved into its original molten form that had taken him nearly twenty attempts to master. There was still a tiny piece of his thumb that had lost it's feeling due to the burns he'd received from the liquid metal.

Of course, the _one night_ he forgot his protection was the very night he was found.

Stiles tried to blend in with the crowd and managed to get swept up in a group of people heading for the exit. He knew that his unmasked magical signature had led the hunters right to him, but it wasn't like they knew who was setting their sensors off. He could easily sneak out, take a long and winding trip home with several stops, just to make sure he had lost them. Then he could go home and pass out in his bed, safely behind his anti-tracking spells and protection wards.

If he could just make it out the door...

Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he exited the club and was met with the brisk fall air. His nipples hardened under his thin, nearly see-through shirt, and he could almost see his breath. Stiles casually glanced behind him toward the open doors where bodies were still melding together and people trickled out of the club. A few had their phones to their ears and a couple had cigarettes already balancing precariously between their lips as they searched for their lighters or ambled toward someone that already had theirs out.

The brunette let out a relieved sigh when the hunters didn't burst through the doorway. Stiles tried to focus on letting the tension flow out of his muscles as he began to walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of his apartment. He still had to stick to the plan, no matter how safe he thought he was. He wasn't going to take any more foolish risks tonight.

He had just crossed the street and rounded the corner when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He couldn't hold back a surprised yelp as the fingers curved into his shoulder in a punishing grip as the hand forced him to his knees on the cold and cracked sidewalk.

Stiles stuck his right leg out and swept it behind himself as he propelled his upper body weight forward, setting his attacker off balance as he knocked his legs out from under him. Stiles jumped to his feet and looked at his assailant and was surprised to see that it wasn't a hunter, but a man a little older than himself decked out in jeans and an oversized black hoodie. Stiles glanced around to see if anyone had noticed and spotted the small band of hunters staring right at him.

“Fuck,” Stiles breathed before taking off down the sidewalk.

He stumbled when he heard a horn blare behind him and assumed the hunters were crossing the street. He had a head start, but it wasn't much considering how tired he was after a long day with the addition of dancing, alcohol consumption and the little stint with the would-be mugger.

He turned at the next corner and sprinted up the pavement. The park was still a few streets away and Stiles knew that if he could manage to get there before the hunter caught up to him he could at least use his magic in an open, unpopulated area and not worry about anyone spotting him or recording it on their phone. The last thing he needed was for others to know he could use magic.

He could hear heavy footfalls behind him and ran harder as his thighs and calves screamed in pain. He wasn't a big fan of working out and absolutely hated running. He thought working out would be the death of him, but the opposite was playing out and he would've laughed at the irony if he had any breath in his lungs to spare.

Stiles nearly laughed as he reached the park and darted through the wide stone gates. He had a chance to get away, lose them in the park and make it home. He knew he could take the hunters now that he had a bit of space to work with.

Stiles inhaled sharply as something latched onto his lower back and sent intense pulses of electricity throughout his body. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as another sharp barb attached itself to his body and sent another electrical charge through him, causing his body to jerk around as if he were having a seizure.

Stiles' vision went black and he wasn't sure if his eyes were open or shut. He could barely get air into his lungs and his limbs twitched violently as if they were trying to shake the electricity from his body. He wasn't sure if his body would support him even if he could move, not that he felt like going anywhere. In fact, Stiles felt like he could fall asleep or pass out or... he could barely finish a thought before another wave of pain and surge of electricity distracted him.

“Well, well, well, look what we've got here.” Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Did the dude think they were in a movie or something? How fucking cliché.

He tried to sit up, but his body was either too weak to complete the motion, or he was bound. He wiggled around and tried to focus, but his vision was blurry and he couldn't move his arms. He dropped his chin to his chest and narrowed his eyes as he strained to focus long enough to assess the situation.

Yep. Bound. Stiles couldn't focus long enough to get a clear view and his skin still tingled with the effects from the Taser, so he couldn't tell if he was wrapped up with rope or something else. He hoped it was just rope. If he could get even just one hand free he could incinerate the rope and show the hunters what he was really capable of.

As his vision swam in and out of focus he realized he didn't recognize his surroundings. Stiles knew that he had fallen while running on the path, which he readily admitted was a mistake, now that he had a moment to think about it. He could tell from the uneven cold surface that he was on the ground and he could no longer see the lamps that lit up the main pathways in the park. Even the moon was elusive and hiding behind trees or blocked by clouds.

“He's becoming more aware. Do you want me to get the needle or tase him again?”

“Give me a minute.” The voice was close to Stiles and was the same one that had spoken when he first came to. “I like to play with my prey.”

Stiles let out a sharp yelp that faded into a groaning whine as he was pulled upright by his hair. He wondered why they hadn't bothered to gag him. They knew he was a witch and simply had to say a spell and he'd be able to free himself. He refused to believe they were incredibly stupid or forgetful. Hunters wouldn't be hunters unless they were cunning, calculating and capable. They'd had the brains to tase him, remove him from the main pathway, and tie him up. They must have had a reason for leaving him with the ability to say a spell.

Stiles assumed he didn't want to know the purpose.

A powerful fist connected to his cheek and clipped the side of his jaw. He groaned as he felt blood pool in his mouth. Stiles ran his tongue over his teeth and hoped none of them had been knocked loose. He hadn't been in many physical fights and had no idea if knocking teeth out was something he should be worried about.

He choked as another fist connected with his stomach. The force of the punch drove upward, toward his rib cage, and effectively knocked the air from his lungs. A swift kick to Stiles' back was followed by a sharp jab to his nose and a strike to the side of his head.

“Stop, please.” Stiles gasped as the hand holding him up by his hair let him drop to the ground in time for a heavy boot to slam down on his ribs. Words died on his lips as he wheezed for air.

Now he understood why they hadn't gagged him. They wanted to hear him moan in pain and beg for them to stop and release him. They probably got off on it. Stiles wasn't about to satisfy their sick habits. He turned his head to spit out the blood and saliva that had pooled heavy and metallic on his tongue. Stiles wished he could at least wipe the thick trail of blood-soaked drool from his face.

The boot on his chest pressed down harder and a hand was suddenly at his throat. His Adam's apple was left untouched, but harsh fingers on the sides of his neck applied enough pressure to make breathing even more difficult and caused Stiles' already blurry vision to black out along the edges.

He could feel hands grabbing at him, but he wasn't sure what was going on. Stiles' ADD-addled brain already had a hard time remaining focused on an average day. It was too much to ask for him to focus on one thing when he was slowly losing oxygen and his entire body was numb.

When Stiles was sure he was mere seconds from being choked to death his life flashed before his eyes and all he could think of was ' _wow, your life really_ does _flash before your eyes_ ' and ' _that was short_ '.

The hands suddenly left his throat and Stiles' ears popped. The sounds of the world around him faded until all he could hear was the sound of his own pulse as blood pounded through his veins. Static-like starbursts danced across his still blurry vision. The boot pressed firmly against his chest prevented him from taking the deep gulps of air his lungs longed for.

It took a few minutes until Stiles realized that his bare ass was touching the cold, wet grass. After that, he processed that he was no longer tied up and his pants and underwear were missing. He tried to kick his feet but discovered that his ankles were clasped in cuffs and forced apart by a short length of metal.

 _A spreader bar._ His brain helpfully supplied the term he was searching for. Not that it helped him understand the situation. Why was he naked? And why were his legs spread so far apart?

Stiles wet his lips and gathered up the strength to yell, “ _Libera_!”

When nothing happened, tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he shouted, “ _Solvo_!”

He kicked his legs in frustration when the clasps didn't fall open and the metal didn't dissolve. “ _Libera_! _Solvo_!” He tried with more conviction.

“The metal has been warded against spells, bitch.” A gravelly voice said from behind him. “But it's fun to watch you try.”

“No!” Stiles screamed as hands grabbed at him and forced his hands behind his back to be cuffed together.

Stiles didn't understand how the metal could be warded unless a witch had willingly helped the hunters to prevent other witches from easily freeing themselves from their bonds with a strong enough spell. As he assessed the situation, he realized that whatever witch had helped the hunters probably hadn't done so willingly.

Stiles grunted when he picked up in rough hands and flipped over before he was shoved to the ground. He turned his face to the side and rotated his upper body so his left shoulder took the brunt of his fall. He lost his breath as he hit the cold ground and groaned when sticks, rocks, and acorn shells dug into his flesh.

He cupped his hands together with his knuckles against his back and shouted, “ _Deflagro_!” He felt a hot flame in his hand and let it grow until his palm began to burn before he flicked his fingers and launched the ball behind him.

“Shit!” An unfamiliar voice shouted, but the person didn't sound as if they were in pain. They mostly sounded shocked and pissed off.

Any other time, Stiles would've been smug that he was able to shock someone with his abilities, but at the moment, Stiles wasn't sure he'd be able to walk away from hunters in one piece. Instead, he focused on the spells he knew he could do that could possibly save his life.

“ _Deflagro_!” Stiles flicked his fingers again once his hands grew hot, and aimed in the direction the person's shout had come from. “ _Flabra_!” He rotated his forefinger in a circular motion before jerking his palms upward and sent a blast of air behind him.

The spells weren't nearly effective enough without his full range of motion and Stiles couldn't think of any spells that weren't elemental. It wasn't like his hands were free and he was able to cast a shield or protect himself in a bubble. If his hands _were_ free, Stiles would have summoned a fire lasso. It was one of the offensive fire spells he was actually good at, unlike earth elementals. If Stiles had any ability to pull it off, he would've had the ground swallow him up by now, but with his lack of experience, he probably would've only managed to cave himself in and been unable to get himself out.

Stiles' vision had begun to clear, but he screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he was yanked upward by his hair once again. He refused to make another sound or beg for his life. He wouldn't go down without a fight, but he wouldn't give his captors the satisfaction of breaking his silence, either.

“Is that all you've got, little bitch?” A voice asked tauntingly. Stiles recognized the hunter's voice since he spoke the most. He clenched his jaw and bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from responding after the man issued a few harsh slaps to his face. “Just going to throw simple elementals at us? You're too weak to bring out a full arsenal, aren't you?”

Stiles jerked his head in an attempt to free himself, but all he managed to do was pull harder at the roots of his hair. He grunted when a sharp knee connected with his ribs multiple times. Stiles was sure that they were bruised, if not broken.

His eyes snapped open and he thrashed his upper body around as a set of hands grasped his head and jaw and slowly forced them apart despite Stiles' best attempts to keep his mouth shut. A large, cold metal ring was forced into his mouth and Stiles pushed his tongue against it as he tried to dislodge it from his mouth. He grunted when it slotted itself behind his teeth and effectively held his mouth open. Drool quickly pooled on his tongue and he had to try a few times before he managed to swallow it, but by the time that he had, more had already gathered. It was easier to let it flow past his lips and down his chin than it was to try to swallow it.

Tears gathered in Stiles' eyes as he realized how vulnerable he was. He was naked from the waist down with his legs forced apart and his hands cuffed behind his back with his mouth held open and unable to form words or do anything other than drool.

He doubted the hunters would've gone through the trouble of binding him in such a manner just to humiliate him. Stiles knew what they were going to do. He just wasn't sure if they were going to molest him and beat him to death or rape him and kill him after they had thoroughly used him.

Stiles couldn't stop the groan that gurgled from the back of his throat as he was grabbed by the jaw and his upper body was lifted up. Rough fingers dug into his shoulders and held him up with his weight on his knees, which dug into the ground and little pieces of rocks and sticks embedded themselves into his sensitive flesh. Stiles refused to look at the man's crotch and raised his eyes until he met the hunter's gaze. He couldn't even make out the color of the man's eyes, but he didn't let it stop him from maintaining eye contact.

“Still think you're so tough without your spells?” The man demanded as he let go of his jaw with a parting squeeze.

The hunter began to unbuckle his belt before he had begun working on the button and zipper on his jeans. “The only reason you're still breathing right now is because I like watching bitches like you try to fight back.” he lowered his jeans and grabbed the back of Stiles' head and held the witch's face to his crotch. “Love it when you cry and try to get away. When you realize that there's no way out. _That's_ my favorite part.” He shoved Stiles away from him.

Stiles tensed up as he anticipated the fall, but the hands on his shoulders kept him upright.

“Once you realize there's no getting away from this, from _me_ , the reactions vary.” The hunter said conversationally as if he were discussing the cause and effect of a simple weather pattern instead of lowering his boxers and taking his cock out. “Some of you get quiet and accepting. Others try to fight back even when they know they're fighting a losing battle. Some do both.” He tapped his dick against Stiles' cheek and slid it up his face to poke at his eye. “I can't wait to see what you do.”

Stiles reeled back, but the hands on his shoulders kept him in place as the hunter's cock slid through the large ring and down the back of his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes as the head of the man's dick glided along his uvula and forced Stiles to gag. The hunter twisted his fingers into Stiles' hair and his nails bit into the witch's scalp. The small pinpricks of pain caused Stiles to inhale sharply through his nose. He choked on the putrid scent of old sweat and crusty cum that radiated from the man's large member. Having the man's sweaty and disgusting cock in his mouth accompanied by the scent that lay heavy over his tongue caused Stiles to puke around the dick bumping the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker!” the hunter cursed as he stepped away from Stiles, but his dick and the front of his legs and shoes had already been covered in the witch's vomit. The hands holding Stiles up disappeared and he fell forward, gagging as his stomach rejected it's contents once more.

Hot tears streaked down his face as he lay in a puddle of his own sick. Stiles attempted to roll over as the scent of his own regurgitation made his stomach twist and tighten all over again. A hand on the back of his head forced him face first into the vomit and his body wracked with sobs as he heard the sound of a zipper.

Stiles didn't bother to hold back his tears when a boot on his back kept his upper body pinned as a steady wet stream hit him on the lower portion of his head to cascade down his neck, followed by another warm jet on his bare ass that ran down his ass crack and over his balls before being absorbed into the ground beneath him. The acrid smell hit him first and Stiles realized he was being pissed on. He tried to protest and squirm away, but the hand on his head and the boot on his back prevented him from doing much other than wiggle feebly.

A vicious howl in the distance caused the hairs on the back of Stiles' neck to stand on end and made the hunters still for a moment until the howl tapered off and faint remnants echoed into the still night air. His captors zipped their pants back up and one began to whisper in a harsh tone, but Stiles couldn't make out the words.

He screamed through the gag when a sharp sting of a barb followed by the knee-weakening jolts of electricity spread from his ass throughout his body. His head, back, and ass felt like it had been set on fire, but the flames were more like liquid as it danced across his skin and left him jerking erratically under its effects.

There was another howl that sounded much closer and made panic rise in Stiles' chest. He knew there weren't any wolves that lived in the park. He was also aware that werewolves existed and possibly inhabited the area despite the fact that he had never come across one. There was no way the beast wouldn't be able to easily scent them with all the blood, vomit, and piss that surrounded him.

“Go get the van and bring it to the baseball fields. We'll meet you there.” one of the hunters said as the sound of a zipper pierced the quietness that had fallen over them like a heavy blanket.

Stiles strained to hear the sound of crickets, an owl or even a twig snapping, but he heard nothing. It seemed like the world had been set on mute after the wolf had howled.

Stiles groaned as he was picked up and placed inside of a bag. He was slipping in and out of awareness until he realized they were zipping the bag shut around him. Stiles began to thrash and wiggle as wildly as he could. Anything to try and impede their efforts to confine him inside of the body bag. He wouldn't be able to breathe! He was hardly getting enough air to his lungs even when he had access to oxygen. He didn't want to know what his chances of survival were if his air supply was cut off.

Stiles froze when a low, threatening snarl pierced the silence and the hunter that had been trying to zip him inside the bag let go of the zipper. He wiggled slowly from the opening in the bag in time to see a monstrous black wolf clamp it's strong jaw around one of the hunter's arms and bite down. The sound of bones breaking echoed through Stiles' head as the hunter let out a shrill, pain-filled scream.

The enormous wolf tossed it's head and sent the hunter sprawling toward the ground as it leaped upon its next victim, who tried to tase the beast. The wolf avoided the barbs and tackled the man to the ground and dug his teeth into the man's neck and bit into the hunter's jugular vein. Bright red blood sprayed over the wolf and Stiles clenched his eyes shut as the need to vomit swelled from the pit of his stomach.

He cracked an eye open when he realized that the wolf had only taken two hunters down when Stiles was sure there had been at least one more. He rolled out of the bag and attempted to sit up, but his muscles screamed in pain and continued to jerk with the residual effects from being tased just a few minutes prior.

The hunter that had assaulted his mouth was bleeding out from the neck and the one the wolf had thrown was slowly coming to. Stiles wondered where the wolf had gone and hoped it would be back in time to finish them off so he wouldn't have to suffer at the hands of the sadistic hunters again.

Stiles' heart pounded in his chest as an intense chill settled into his bones. He'd been so focused on fighting that he hadn't realized he'd been on an adrenaline high. His body was crashing and Stiles fought to keep his eyes open. It may have been easier to fade from the world if the wolf would kill him when he was unconscious, but Stiles wanted to stay awake. He didn't want to be taken without a fight, no matter how much he yearned for a quick death.

A fast rhythmic pounding gave Stiles something to latch onto and focus on as he attempted to stay conscious. The smell of blood and wet dog remained thick in the air as the wolf barreled toward him. Stiles tensed his muscles and waited for the wolf to sink his claws and teeth into him and finish him off, but the wolf jumped over him completely. Stiles curled his upper body inward and looked over his shoulder as the wolf finished off the remaining hunter with a side sweep of his paw across the man's stomach, effectively disemboweling the hunter and allowing him to slowly bleed out while in excruciating pain.

Stiles' breath caught in his throat as the massive black wolf approached him. Sweat and blood caused the gorgeous black fur to clump together and the metallic scent of blood mixed with sweat, the musty wet dog scent, and God knew what else, had Stiles breathing through his mouth so he wouldn't gag.

Stiles had held his captor's gaze when he had violated him and Stiles hadn't lowered his gaze. However, he could practically feel the power radiating off the beast in front of him and he knew his time had come.

He lowered his head and stopped fighting the black spots that had threatened to take over his vision for the past few minutes. Stiles had held on as long as he could, had fought for his life, but when he saw the red glow of the wolf's eyes he knew it was time to let go.

Stiles' grasp on reality faded in and out as he felt the wolf draw near and the wolf's hot, humid breath on the back of his neck made the hairs rise. Stiles didn't bother to tense up. He would welcome a quick death over the abuse, torment, humiliation, torture, and assault the hunters had planned for him. He was sure they hadn't planned for him to die quickly, either. The wolf would spare him of that and make it easy, perhaps even painless.

Stiles couldn't stop himself from tensing up when the sound of multiple bones cracking filled the night air. He waited for the pain but didn't feel anything. He wondered if he was having an out of body experience. Witnessing his own death but unable to feel pain.

As far as dying went, he couldn't complain. There were worse ways to go.

His eyes fluttered when he felt thick, calloused fingers touch his neck and he furrowed his brow. If he were dead, he wouldn't be able to feel anything. He _shouldn't_ be feeling anything.

Stiles let out a wet groan as fingers closed around the strap at the back of his head and unbuckled the clasp and the ring gag was gently pried from his mouth. Stiles let his mouth hung open a bit since closing it made his jaw muscles scream in protest.

Stiles whimpered when the hands left his face and jumped when his wrists were enveloped in those same warm, calloused hands. He grunted when his hands were jerked apart and the chain of the handcuffs snapped and left him with iron bracelets. His arms were lowered to his side and the muscles in his upper back, arms and across his shoulders nearly seized up.

The hands bypassed his exposed back and ass and settled on his ankles. The man who owned the hands grunted as he attempted to break the metal that forced Stiles' legs apart, but the metal only bent. After a few more tries, the metal snapped and Stiles' legs were no longer forced apart, but he couldn't gather up the strength to close his legs. The metal cuffs around his ankles chafed his skin and caused Stiles to let out an involuntary whine from deep within his chest.

The man gave a low growl that should have terrified him, but Stiles couldn't help but think that the throaty rumble was more reassuring than threatening. The hands left his body completely as the man walked away. Stiles whimpered and tried to roll over, but his muscles wouldn't obey. The most he could do was turn his head to the side in the direction the man's footsteps headed toward.

Stiles tried to wiggle his toes and flex his fingers, and urge his muscles to respond, but he couldn't tell if they had or not. He wasn't sure how high the voltage had been that the hunters had tased him with, but he hoped that it wouldn't cause permanent damage to his muscles. Especially since it appeared that he would live through the experience after all.

He jumped when a vaguely familiar warm hand settled around his ankle. For a second, Stiles thought the hunter had someone managed to live through having his throat slit and was about to finish him off.

“Settle down.” a calm voice instructed. Stiles didn't even know how to describe the man's voice. It wasn't very deep, but it was manly. There was a bit of a hard edge to the words, but Stiles didn't feel like he was at risk of being hurt. It was a nice voice, one Stiles didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing if he were given the opportunity.

There was a click and his left ankle was released from the cuff. The man cradled his ankle and rubbed his thumbs down the sides of Stiles' ankle toward his toes in an effort to get his blood circulating. The stranger twisted and turned Stiles' ankle in his hands and pointed Stiles' toes for a few seconds before he bent them back toward Stiles' body. The man set his foot down gently on the cold ground and unlocked the other ankle and gave it the same treatment.

The stranger picked up Stiles' wrists and unlocked the cuffs. He rubbed feeling back into Stiles' hands and stretched his fingers for him before he rolled Stiles onto his back and lifted him up.

Stiles blinked blearily as he was swept into muscular arms and cradled against a firm, bare chest. His eyes didn't focus and wondered if his vision would remain impaired for the rest of his life. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he lost the strength to keep them open and allowed his head loll toward the man's shoulder.

Stiles wasn't aware how much time had passed before his body jerked when he remembered that there had been a wolf that had attacked the hunters before coming toward him and...he couldn't recall anything else.

“There... wolf. Killed 'em.”

“Shhh,” the man hushed him gently as he shifted Stiles so his naked body was curled further into the stranger's body that radiated warmth. “It's alright.”

“No! Wolf!” Stiles' eyes flew open and he tried to make out the blurry face in front of him against the dark sky above him.

He needed the man to know there was a dangerous, bloodthirsty beast on the prowl. It was probably hunting them down at this very moment!

Stiles' narrowed his eyes and refused to blink as the man's face came into focus. His mouth dropped open in awe at the gorgeous features that leaped out at him. He ran his eyes across thick, frowning eyebrows, beautiful green eyes, a downturned nose, a strong jaw and soft pink lips.

“Wolf!” He cried out as he attempted to break free from the stranger's strong hold.

Stiles wasn't sure if his muscles would ever recover, but he didn't have time to think about his lack of movement when black spots tinged the edges of his vision again. All he had time to think about was the wolf. Maybe he could distract the wolf while the other man escaped. Stiles was already injured and the helpful stranger had a decent chance of getting away since he was strong enough to carry Stiles in his arms without assistance.

Stiles had never thought of himself as a martyr, but it was the least he could do after the handsome man had tried to save his life.

He renewed his efforts to slip from the stranger's hands and tried to force his tongue to work and explain the dangerous situation he had mistakenly wound up in. However, the man's grip on him tightened and Stiles turned to look at the man's face. He hoped the fear on his face and panic in his eyes would get the man to leave him and walk away, but Stiles' breath left his lungs when he realized the beautiful green eyes were glowing blood red.

“Wh– Whatdafug?” Stiles murmured as his vision swam and the world went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles' thoughts as he's being choked are the two thoughts I had while I nearly drowned.
> 
> The fight scenes are personal experiences from the years I spent studying martial arts and being abused.
> 
> The title of this fic was taken from the song "Hungry Like the Wolf" by Duran Duran.


End file.
